Me and Mrs Jones
by LoveofVelma
Summary: Fred and Daphne are married but who is this "Buster" she calls on the phone every day at the same time.  Tated "T" just to be safe and for the adult theme. Paring Daphne and ?.


Me and Mrs. Jones

Disclaimer: Scooby Doo and all related characters are owned by Hanna-Barbera, Warner Bros.,and Cartoon Network. All other characters, names, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, events, places, and incidents is coincidental.

With my beta busy, any and all mistakes are mine and mine alone. This is not a songfic, simply based on the old song,"Me and Mrs. Jones".

Chapter One

Part One: The Invitation

The phone rang at the usual time but I check the caller I.D. and smile as I answer, "Hello, Mrs. Jones."

"Same place, same time?" My spirits soar when I hear her girlish giggle.

"I'll be there with bells on."

"You'd look cute with bells." Again the giggle, now subdued. That giggle that warms the cockles of my heart; a symbol of everything I love about this Mrs. Jones.

"Can you steal away this evening for a little dancing and romancing?" I ask, lowering my voice to just above a whisper.

"Just what have you got in mind?" She can't fool me; she's intrigued and I can imagine the wheels spinning as she mentally goes through her closet.

"How about 'The Connection' at 'The Club'? We'll meet as usual, then hit the club around eight."

I anticipate the silence on the other end of the line. I'm not disappointed. 'The Connection' is one of our favorite spots although we don't get to go as often as we'd like.

"It's expensive, are you sure?" She wants to go but a token resistance is required.

"I'm sure. We have to steal our time together, let's make it count."

"You're on, Buster. But be warned, I'm going to order from their most expensive menu."

Part Two: The Rendezvous

Rejuvenated by the phone conversation, I arrive early at our romantic rendezvous; we have been meeting at this little cafe since it's small compared to other cafe's in town and resides in a quiet, out-of-the-way part of town which me and Mrs. Jones appreciate.

"Good evening sir, a tad early aren't we? I must apologize for the lighting. Your table is ready." The light above our table mysteriously goes out before we arrive.

"We won't be staying long tonight. I have reservations at 'The Club' later."

"Ah, a special lady." I agree with his observation. I drop the required number of coins in the jukebox, selecting some of our favorite tunes, then make my way to our favorite table.

Mrs. Jones is running fashionably late as usual but I forgive her immediately when she walks through the door. There is no way I could have planned it but the first notes of the song, "Me and Mrs. Jones" erupts from the jukebox on her entrance.

I rise to greet her and am not surprised to see every head in the place turn to watch her glide toward me. She takes my hands, snuggling close to kiss my cheek and whisper, "Good evening, Buster."

I take her evening wrap, more decoration than for warmth, revealing her lithe, slim body clothed in a champagne-colored silk sheath that covers one shoulder while leaving the other bare. I'm left breathless, holding her chair, kissing the top of her head; her soft red hair, shampooed and brushed, cascades to her shoulders. This has become our favorite time of the day. Sitting across the table, holding hands and talking over the day, making all sorts of plans.

All to soon, as most things do, our time is past, it's time to leave. I help her with her wrap and waving farewell, we make our way out of the cafe.

Part Three: The revelation

'The Connection' inside the Country Club or 'The Club' as it's known to the locals is still the place if you wanted to impress a date. No expense had been spared from silverware to the recessed lighting.

Mrs. Jones had always been beautiful. Uncomfortable with the attention, mostly from boys it brought, she'd worked hard to downplay her natural beauty in school. As she grew older she seemed to embrace her beauty and the adoration that came with it. I loved her for her beauty, of that there is no denial but what I loved the most was the fact she had made peace with her beauty but had not become a snob because of it.

We were among the city's stars, it's own form of royalty if you will, if this was true Mrs. Jones was the brightest star. With a flick of her head that sent her hair flying she took my arm and with a regal walk any queen would have had to practice, followed my lead through the maze of tables laden with the finest china, silver and linen. Her heels moved silently over the exquisite carpeting.

"You are the most beautiful woman here," I whispered, holding her chair.

"You're prejudiced and they're jealous," she stated simply, dismissing the looks that came her way. Picking up the menu she looked over the top coquettishly "Buster, I hope you brought a wheelbarrow to carry the money to pay for this."

Even my wallet cringed when I got the chance to peek at the prices. The thought of two wheelbarrows crossed my mind.

An hour later, Mrs. Jones pushed the remnants of her broiled filet mignon away, "I can't take another bite!" Immediately, a waiter is there to clear away the dishes.

"Dessert? I hear they have Cherries Jubilee that's to die for."

"Buster, I'd die if I take another bite. You just trying to make me fat?"

"Not at all, Honey. Are you enjoying yourself?"

"Yes, very much. I don't know how it could be more enjoyable," she says lightly.

"You could try looking behind you." I point over her shoulder; a questioning raising of her eyebrows is followed by her obediently turning in her seat.

They had been hiding behind oversized menu's when we arrived. Presently Shaggy waved a gaily wrapped present while Velma, dressed in a floor length gown the color of sun ripened peaches, holds a camera. "Say Happy Anniversary, Daph!"

"You planned this, didn't you, Fred Jones? You are in so much trouble!" She turns her attention back to me but she's laughing as she says it; I don't think I'm in that much trouble. I get up to give Velma a hug.

"Yes, Daph, I must plead guilty. We've been planning it for a month." Not only is Shaggy and Velma there but a lot of our families, including her parents as well as mine.

"Fred, you promised dancing and romancing; it's time for the dancing part."

"Bring her back, Fred. She's still got presents to unwrap," laughing, Velma pushes me toward Daphne.

"Sorry, guys." I quip, "but me and Mrs. Jones, we got a thing goin' on."

The End


End file.
